


when the sun and moon collide

by iwantacorgisobad



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: A little bit of angst, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Historical References, M/M, The Death Cure Spoilers, Time Skips, a lot of old terrifying shit like war and plague and lots of death, but it's all different reincarnations so it's okay, but there's some romance too!!, i'm just kidding all of this is angst, should i still tag this, weird concepts for the future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 21:07:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14340930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwantacorgisobad/pseuds/iwantacorgisobad
Summary: People are bound to be reborn over and over again until they find and kiss their soulmates - the thing is, there's just no sign you've found them to help you.





	when the sun and moon collide

**Author's Note:**

> you guys have no idea how many unfinished fics i have lying around on my laptop and one day i just stumble across this one completely finished and never uploaded, what. //this also means once finals season is over i'm going to bombard you with even more angsty newtmas (or before it even starts because i'm a damn procrastinator)//  
> anyways, i hope you'll enjoy and if you did, any feedback is much appreciated (◕‿◕✿)

It’s a thin, weak peasant boy he’s first born as, barely after the Roman Empire had fallen. He works hard his entire life but to no avail – he loses all his land, his money, and never gets married. He lives with his family until his unfortunate early death.

The next time he’s born is almost a century later, he’s a soldier, fighting in the Roman-Persian wars. His eyes briefly meet those of a Persian young man, burning with determination but openly showing fear, before he’s stabbed to death. The man’s the last thing he sees.

He spends his next life searching for those eyes, not quite sure what he’s looking for, but the sense of something missing follows him from birth to death. He’s part of a Viking army, they’re conquering almost everything in Britain and they celebrate every night, but he’s not with the others – he keeps longing for something else, but can’t grasp what.

It’s around the first millennium when he finds the same pair of fierce eyes again, but he doesn’t know he’s seen them before. All he knows is that he’s mesmerized, and that he really shouldn’t be – they’re in Bruges, both traders, exchanging a few goods and some money before they part their ways and never see each other again.

He’s a Catholic priest in Eastern Europe now, and he’s at peace with the rules forbidding him from marriage. He’s looked at pretty girls before but none of them were quite to his taste; he felt like something of great importance was missing from them all, and in the end, he gives up searching. He feels content spending his surprisingly long life behind the walls of a church and being kind to people he doesn’t know.

They’re both working on building the Chartres Cathedral. It’s not a great job and neither of them knows exactly how they ended up there, but they try to make the most of it, always sneaking off to work on the same part. The thought of maybe having met the man before crosses his mind once, not in this form, because the first time he saw him he was sure he’d never seen another human like him; but the concept of another life is erased from his mind as soon as it appeared – Catholics don’t believe in reincarnation. After the construction is done, they don’t meet again anyways.

The next time he meets him is an unfortunate event and he ends up wishing he didn’t have to: he’s been suffering from the plague for a few days, quarantined in a dark corner of a cold house with some other patients, awaiting certain death. He’s even wishing for it now, and can’t decide whether some of his hope is regained or all is lost when he sees an awfully young and strong-looking man pushed inside the room with his will to live plastered all over his face. He knows the other’s doomed as soon as he sets foot inside, but he somehow hopes he will make it.

During the Renaissance, he’s a member of an upper-class rich family, he owns a large piece of land next to his sister and her husband’s, and marries a beautiful young lady. He has kids, too, but as soon as he meets the painter assigned to make portraits of their family, he can’t tear his mind from him. They only have so much time together before he finishes his work, and even though the hours he spent modelling were countless, they didn’t have many chances to speak. The painter’s gaze lingers a little longer when he gets his payment, then he leaves, and only looks back twice before disappearing.

They’re father and son now, relishing the easy Rococo life. The bond they share is so unlikely it often gets mistaken for something else, but they just laugh it off and clink their champagne glasses again. His son never gets married, but as much disappointment as it arouses around him, he just doesn’t care.

He’s torn between the different sides during the revolutions of 1848. He’s an author who can’t choose one so he writes about both, and his political novels sell at a quick rate – but he’s thrown into a jail room even quicker. He guesses he deserves it, and stops protesting when the guard at the floor reaches his cell for the first time. They spend endless nights together after that, theorizing and talking through the bars, and he’s even a little sad when he’s released.

In the Victorian Age, they meet again – while gambling. He’s not a huge fan of it but a friend of his persuades him into going and once he meets a mysterious young man smoking outside – just when he goes for his own break –, he decides the night isn’t so bad after all. They soon become great friends and, at one point, find out they’re very much like the popular literature characters, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. He tries to protest first, though, but them sharing an apartment doesn’t make his point any better.

The next time he’s sure he’s found the piece he had been so painfully missing his entire life is when he collides with the man standing next to him as they’re lining up for the invasion of Normandy. Their encounter is brief as they’re both killed within hours, but the little time spent together brings some joy into their last minutes.

They meet at Woodstock, and although they both have pretty girls on their sides, they can’t deny there’s a strange attraction between them. They don’t act upon it, even though they do spend some drunken nights together, and once the festival is over, they both return to their homes. He thinks about the man with the adorable freckles scattered over his face a lot for the rest of his life.

The first time he hears his name it sounds somewhat familiar, but he soon realizes it’s because of the increasingly popular TV series the guy’s been working on for the past year. The next five they spend together, save for the year the man’s trying to recover from a serious injury on set during filming. They almost kiss once, for kicks, and it’s brought up a lot but it doesn’t happen again – they stay good friends for a while, then, eventually, drift apart.

In his next life, he’s a scientist, and gets into a terrible feud with a journalist misunderstanding his new development by accident. They end up resolving it, but the hours spent in court under the man’s piercing stare haunts him for a while.

He’s a town clerk, and gets entrusted to perform a civil registrar ceremony – between a man and a robot. He’s uncomfortable, he finds it disturbing and weird and just wants to go home, until the moment he meets the man’s witness, who shares an exasperated glance with him as he signs the papers. They exchange a few words afterwards, but he soon learns the guy is from another state, and only came for the wedding. He leaves the next day.

 

 

He’s sure it’s the thing he’d been given before being sent up to the Maze that messed with his brain, because he can remember previous lives but not the one he’s living right now. All he knows about his current self is that his name is Newt – and that he’s terrified. Nothing seems to make sense; not until he meets the boy with the same fiery eyes again. Then all falls in place.

“Are you sure? Don’t you want a better life to be our last?” Thomas asks him once, but his answer is only a determined kiss on the lips. He doesn’t want to wait any longer, they can’t be sure they’ll still remember in their next lives, and to lose something so hardly achieved is something he can’t let happen. So he kisses Thomas like the world is ending – and little does he know it is.

 

“Did you have a favourite?” They’re in the Scorch now, keeping watch over the others as they sleep. The night is long and the hours barely drag by; they’ve run out of happy topics to discuss. The painful presence of not knowing who they are suddenly makes itself known again and they find themselves reminiscing about the past once more.

“I liked Woodstock,” Thomas says, bumping his shoulder against Newt’s, and he knows exactly what he means by that. He liked the shorts and bikini tops they had worn one night, drunken, daring, young. Free.

 

Neither of them expected for things to be over so quickly – everything seemed to be slipping through their fingers and building up to what was worse than any other previous life. Worse than the middle-age wars, worse than the plague, worse than Normandy. Just one moment, finally finding each other felt perfect; now the awareness of running into a dead end is crushing. Newt is infected.

“Do you still not regret it?” Thomas asks. They’re lying in bed, the lights from the Last City illuminating the dark room in what was most likely the ruins of an old hotel. Some cars pass by on the streets, some Cranks – or other ungodly creatures – scream with an inhuman sound, but otherwise, the night is calm and quiet. A defeated smile dances on the soft curve of Newt’s lips.

“No. And if I had another chance, I’d do it all the same. I wouldn’t change a thing,” he says, noticing but purposefully ignoring Thomas’ fingertips gently running along the black veins on his forearm. The virus is spreading quickly, he doesn’t have much time, he’s running out and he knows it; and still, he doesn’t wish things had gone differently. If he could go back to when he first met Thomas, he’d probably kiss him even sooner.

He loves the boy with all of his being, and can’t imagine a life without him by his side. If he has to die at the age of eighteen, then so be it – Thomas is worth giving up every second he could’ve spent alive but without him.


End file.
